


everything stays (but it still changes)

by lemonjarr



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abusive Jschlatt, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, sbi is family :)))
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:33:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29233068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonjarr/pseuds/lemonjarr
Summary: There’s a gentle hum of a reminder that it’ll always be the same, that it will stay fresh in the mind, but this time, it is not a bleeding wound in need to be treated, like it was before. The memory is not a wound, because it does not hurt. Not anymore. Now, it’s a scar. It’s changed, but it stays as it always will.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Floris | Fundy & Niki | Nihachu & Toby Smith | Tubbo & Eret
Kudos: 42





	everything stays (but it still changes)

“You wanna know something,” Tommy idly says aloud during dinner one day.

“No, I don’t,” Wilbur cuts off immediately, lowering his fork and shoulders, easing away from Phil’s glare. The man then stares at Tommy to continue.

Tommy rolls his eyes at Wilbur before he sets down his spoon. “The new kid is bein’ bullied. Is that the right word? Well, the kids at my school have been bothering him around town.”

Phil scrunches up his nose in distaste. Glancing up from the lasagna, he asks, “Who? The kid from the eighth floor?” Tommy nods. “I see. Is it friendly bickering? Or. . .”

Tommy shakes his head. “No. Just bullying,” he confirms. Techno’s fork makes a squeak on the plate, and Wilbur keens at it. 

“You know what to do with bullying, Tommy,” Phil chides. “You tell an adult.”

“I just did.”

At that, Wilbur chuckles and Techno’s chair scratches, presumably kicking his elder twin from the other side of the table. Phil takes a deep sigh and shakes his head.

“Thank you for letting me know,” Phil says evenly. “I’ll let their parents know.”

“He doesn’t live with his parents,” Tommy says. Phil goes quiet. “They were makin’ fun of him ‘cause he only lives with his siblings. And he was asking if there were jobs around here. I think they were saying he was poor or some shit.”

Phil’s brow creases at the thought. He’s never liked discussing bullying with his kids, generally because they’ve all _been_ bullied before. It’s all small things, but they impacted them nonetheless.

With Techno, it was being too good at everything. With Wilbur, it was being tall and liking music. With Tommy, it was being loud and shouty.

“I’ll tell his siblings, then,” Phil says, and the conversation ends there.

**—**

At around 7 at night, Phil goes to the eighth floor, room 82, and knocks.

Their light is dim and dingy, Phil notices, and it’s almost nonexistent. He can barely even see the room numbers. 

But still, the door stays shut.

Phil frowns. He can try tomorrow morning.

**—**

When Phil wakes, he finds that there is now a car in their room’s parking spot. Heading over to their room, he knocks.

It takes a bit, but someone sporting bright orange hair with brown-ish roots and white tips squints at him groggily.

The person is skinny, Phil notices, with a black hoodie on and baggy, grey pants.

“Can I help you?” they ask, not so kindly, but it is. . . 6 in the morning, so Phil can’t blame them.

“Uh, yeah, are you the sibling of a young child? Brown hair? Short? Just moved here?”

The person still seems uninterested. That’s fair. They analyze Phil first, before sighing and asking, “Who even are you?”

Phil’s mouth straightens into a line. This person is _not_ a morning person. “I’m on floor two. My son, er, witnessed the boy I was talking about being bothered by a few kids. He’s saying that this boy is getting bullied?”

Almost instantly, the person’s posture straightens. They clear their throat and nod for Phil to go on.

“My son, Tommy, says that these kids were talking about how. . . er, how ‘poor’ — “ he adds finger quotes — “he is while he was asking around for jobs. I felt like it was needed for you to know.” Phil intentionally leaves out the rest of what Tommy told him about their siblings.

“Thanks for telling me,” they say formally. “I’m Fundy. I’m his older brother. You are?”

“Phil,” he introduces, smiling this time. “It was nice to meet you.”

The guy nods, and then shuts the door.

**—**

From then on, Phil doesn’t hear much from them. He decides that, maybe, it’s all resolved. Maybe they can even become friends.

And then, there’s a girl and a boy who matches the description of the kid Tommy spoke of at his doorstep.

Techno is who answers it, which is a bad decision all together, and what his second-eldest first decides to do is to say, “I’m sorry,” and then slam the door shut.

Phil has to open the door while Tommy is in hysterics and Wilbur is attempting to console Techno, obviously failing.

“Hi,” the girl says sweetly, her voice thick with an accent, “I’m from floor eight, room 82. I’d like to. . . formally thank you for telling me about this whole situation. Fundy was a bit on jet-lag when he answered you.”

Phil nods. “No, no it’s fine. It _was_ 6 in the morning, anyone would be like that regardless of jet lag. Did you travel here on a plane?”

“From the Netherlands,” sh — _they_ , right, no assuming genders — they say kindly.

“That’s a long while. I’m Phil.”

“Niki,” they say kindly, “and this is Tubbo. I’m his elder sister.”

Phil nods at the boy. Like Fundy, the two are both skinny and pale. Niki has short, brown and blonde hair, while Tubbo just has plain brown. 

Tubbo stares up at Phil, unblinking.

Phil laughs awkwardly. “It’s good to meet you. Would you like to meet my sons?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Niki ushers Tubbo in — they both kindly take off their shoes and shove it to the side — and they stare at each other before looking at Tommy and Techno and Wilbur. . . fighting.

Tommy and Wilbur are wrestling on the floor, while Techno is sitting on the couch, casually poking them with his foot. At one point, someone latches onto Techno’s foot and drags him off the couch.

Phil sighs. “ _Boys_ ,” he starts sternly, “we have guests.”

As one, the three stop. Techno is the first to get up and brush off his shirt. His face goes a rosey pink, and he looks away, raising a hand in acknowledgement. 

Wilbur sits up and clears his throat. “Hi,” he says meekly. 

“Hello,” Niki says, albeit a bit awkward. “I — uhm, I’ve just moved here, and, er, I would like to say hi. I’m Niki.”

“Oh.” Wilbur’s eyes widen, and then he looks away. “Hello. I’m Wilbur.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Then, Niki turns to Techno. “You are. . ?”

“Techno,” he says.

Tommy rolls over, cocking his head to the side and making a pouty face. “It’s a shitty name, huh.”

“ _Tommy!_ ” Phil hisses, but Niki’s eyes crinkle and she starts laughing. He offers her an apologetic look. “He’s a bit blunt. He’s my youngest, Tommy. He’s fourteen. Who’s the little one here?”

Niki’s back straightens, and she looks at the other. He doesn’t say a thing. “This is Tubbo,” she says. “He’s fourteen, too. Would you like to talk to Tommy?”

The room feels stiff and uneasy, Tubbo shifting on his foot and glancing up.

He seems so distant.

“Hi,” the boy says belatedly. Niki grimaces. Though, Tubbo straightens his back upon the look, and says formally, “It’s nice to meet you.”

**—**

Phil later meets Eret, the eldest of them. 

Eret’s a nice person. She goes by any pronouns and is bisexual, something she isn’t afraid ro announce, and Phil gladly promises he’ll try to call her by all pronouns. She also says that they do, in fact, live alone. 

They never say _why_ , but Phil doesn’t pry.

“I’ve been working a lot lately,” he says, looking away in probably embarrassment. “It’s all retail and fast-food, though. Niki and Fundy and even Tubbo have gotten jobs here, it’s a little stressful.”

“Oh I get that.” Phil moves his hat. “The apartments here are quite expensive.”

Eret sighs. “They are. We don’t know much about what it’s like over here. America’s an odd place,” ze says, almost like something final. Phil nods. “But I can’t really tell them that. It’s like they have all their trust in me, and I can’t let them down. And Tubbo’s just starting highschool in a few weeks, and with this whole bullying thing, I’m scared for all of them when they finally _go_.”

It’s a bit of a problem. One that’s dug it’s grave so far that Phil has to stop and think about the ins and outs of it. Jesus, these kids have quite a bit on their hands.

“Well,” he starts off, “I’m always here if you need help. We’re all fine financially, so don’t be scared to give me a little call if you need help, hm?”

Eret smiles. “Yeah. Thank you, Phil.”

**—**

The weeks go on well. 

Tommy and Tubbo have gotten so much closer, and Phil’s beginning to see a lot in the brunette. They’re attached by the hip now, even if Tommy will never admit it.

As far as Phil knows, Fundy is still as antisocial as ever. But, the teen is starting to branch out more, and Phil gets to watch as Fundy slowly banters with Techno more, and gets closer to Wilbur.

Niki has always been quite social, but she’s beginning to stand her own ground. She makes more jokes with Wilbur, and makes friends with Minx, a girl who’s known as brash, and manages to tame her.

Eret still works hard. Phil doesn’t get to see him much, but Phil knows that he’s made more friends with his co-workers. He also has started talking more about extra-curricular activities, like having Niki play more guitar and mess with baking, and letting Fundy enjoy his coding and piano, and Tubbo with his trampolining skills (that had been a surprise) and ukulele.

Phil is proud to see them grow from just the neighbors from floor eight, room 82, but to someone Phil would consider his family, and just hopes that they’ll be as great as Phil thinks they are.

**—**

Eret enters his home with a person with a beanie on and is bleeding out of their chest.

Phil’s mind goes at a million miles a second, wondering who it is, wondering why Eret has them, wondering if they’re okay, wondering why they’re bleeding, wondering what’s _happening._

And then Phil meets Eret’s desperate eyes.

“Help.”

And Phil does so.

He asks Techno to get towels and the medical kit, and for Wilbur to take Tommy outside and stay on the eighth floor for a while. 

Techno’s eyes widen at the sight of a bleeding man. 

“Thank you,” Phil mutters quickly, “go to the eighth floor, room 82. Be safe.”

Techno doesn’t say a word, nodding mindlessly.

Phil strips the man of his sweater immediately, and the white shirt underneath has blood and dirt stains all over. Eret comes back with paper towels, towels in general, and a bucket of hot water.

Phil wonders why he seems so prepared and used to this.

Phil dunks a towel into the hot water and brings it up to the bleeding area, wiping away wet and dry blood alike. As the blood clears away and is left blended with the water droplets, there’s a green shard in the ma — person’s skin that’s keeping the wound bleeding.

_An alcohol bottle_.

They needed stitches for this, and Phil feels his vision zone in and out.

“We need to call 911 — he — he needs stitches, Eret,” Phil admits, turning to them. They process that, and turning between the bleeding person and Phil, they take out their phone and dials a number.

Soon enough, the ambulance shows up. There’s a couple people blinking their sleep away and looking at the blaring lights, but Eret mostly handles the questions with no hesitation.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Niki.

She’s gone in an instant, and when Phil walks over to where she’s stood, he sees all of his children (whether it’s by blood or not), looking miserable.

Phil looks at the siblings, and they all start crying, while Wilbur, Techno and Tommy (and even Phil) tries to understand what’s going on.

**—**

“His name is Quackity,” Fundy explains to them, because Tubbo is still breathing harshly from hyperventilating earlier and Niki’s crying. “We used to live with him, before we moved here.”

Phil readies himself for a deep conversation, and both Techno and Wilbur nod. Tommy watches with concern in his eyes.

“Our adoptive father, Schlatt. He was abusive, and delusional, and an alcoholic.” Fundy stares at the ground. “We were with him for a long time. And then, he died. Of a heart attack. He died in front of us, throwing bottles and yelling.”

Niki sobs.

“Eret was only seventeen, so we couldn’t really. . . do anything, y’know? So we called the cops when _he_ died, and they put us in an orphanage. All five of us. And we stayed there. But our caretaker was a bitch, and wouldn’t let Eret take in Quackity ‘cause he’s Mexican when they turned 18. And we weren’t able to keep in touch with him.

“So we moved to the Netherlands. And we. . . and we didn’t have the best neighbor’s ‘cause there aren’t as many part time jobs. We couldn’t afford a house. And then we moved here.”

The story ends. Phil feels bile rise in his throat. That’s. . . That’s fucked up! They were — They were kids! Dealing with Techno’s high intelligence and dueling skills was one thing, dealing with Wilbur’s mental issues was another, and Tommy’s abrasive nature was already _so much_ on Phil. What. . . How far have they come?

“Can I hug you?”

Phil looks up. Wilbur jumps onto Fundy and Niki, holding and squeezing tight, and Tubbo’s glassy eyes widen as he’s pulled into a hug by Tommy. Techno sits up and stands on his knees, scooting over to join Wilbur and Niki and Fundy’s hug.

They all start crying, and Phil has barely enough time to walk away before he throws up and starts crying in front of a garbage can.

**—**

Phil takes Niki and Fundy and Tubbo to the hospital. As one, the siblings jump into Eret’s arms, and Niki and Eret sit on the floor as Tubbo and Fundy sit on the chair. Phil leans on the wall next to them.

An hour later, Phil looks up to hear an obviously mocking Mexican accent saying, “ _Ayyyy,_ did you miss me?”

“Big Q!” Tubbo jumps off the chair, stumbling over Niki and Eret and Fundy’s arm to launch into the man’s arms. His hair is greasy and he has eyebags, but his eyes are lit up with happiness as he opens his arms to them.

“Heya kiddo,” he says kindly, rubbing a circle on Tubbo’s back, “how’ve you been holding up?” He looks up to the other three. “What? No hug?”

Niki lets out a surprised laugh. Eret gives a deep chuckle, moving her boots to help Niki stand up. Fundy stands, too, though he has an awkward smile as he straightens his jacket out.

“Where have you _been?_ ” Niki asks, cocking her head. Her grin is quite happy, Phil is glad to see, as Eret grins and says, “Hey kiddo.”

“I hate that you’re older than me,” Quackity says glumly, faking a pout, and Eret cackles. 

Phil has never heard Eret laugh so loudly. Their grin is big, and Niki’s smile is so, so real, and Tubbo’s grip has never been so trusting, and Fundy’s relieved eyes haven't been something he’s seen.

Phil thinks that this is what you call familial love.

“Ey Quackity,” Fundy begins, “hair reveal?”

Quackity’s cheeks go a bright pink, lifting his arms from around Tubbo to cover his hair. It doesn’t work. “Oh shut up,” he groans, giving up and setting his arms down. Tubbo moves away.

Phil sets out a relieved sigh. “Hi,” he begins, “it’s good to see you’re okay.”

Quackity blinks stupidly. “Uh, thanks?”

Tubbo laughs. Letting a hand out to gesture to Phil, the boy says, “This is Phil. He helped clean you up, and a friend of ours. I think you’ll like his son, Tommy. He’s my best friend now, did you know?”

“Wow Tube-oh, didn’t know you were so sociable,” he teases.

Tubbo pouts. “Shut it!”

**—**

Quackity’s stay at the hospital wasn’t for long. It was only an impaling and a few stitches and medicine or some shit for other things, but Quackity is taken to the Watson household soon enough.

But, Phil notices, the teen is hesitant to enter.

At this point, Phil has no idea how to feel about this kid. He’s traumatised, Phil knows —

(and so is Niki, Fundy, Eret and Tubbo, but they all seemed so _okay_ before any now they have an unexplored past and they’re different but so the same, and — )

— but it’s so unseen on him. Quackity seems so kind and funny and unsuspecting, that it almost makes it hard to believe how he has such a bad past.

“They’re nice people,” Phil mentions. “A little chaotic, but I raised them. They’re good kids.”

And for some reason, it’s enough for Quackity, because he smiles and nods and opens the door.

**Author's Note:**

> this was some little one-shot i wrote a while ago :)) hope u like it and kudos + comments are appreciated!!!


End file.
